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no. 3 
Copy 2 


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16 - 30299-1 GPO 


















































































ae THE STAGE GUILD PLAYS as 


THE WONDER HAT 

By KENNETH SAWYER GOODMAN and BEN HECHT 



RESERVE 

STORAGE 

COLLECTION 


. s»e FRANK SHAY ^ PUBLISHER 





















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THE WONDER HAT A Harlequinade in One Act .50 

By K. S. Goodman and Ben Hecht 

THE GREEN SCARF - - - A Comedy in One Act .50 

By K. S. Goodman 

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THE LAST STRAW - - - - A Play in One Act .35 

By Bosworth Crocker 

LOVE OF ONE'S NEIGHBOR - - A Satire in One Act .35 

By L. Andreyev 

POLLY OF POGUE'S RUN - An Historical Play in One Act .35 

By W. O. Bates 


THE MORNINGSIDE PLAYS 

HATTIE: a drama ------- By Elva De Pue 

ONE A DAY: a comedy ----- By Caroline Briggs 

MARKHEIM: a dramatization - By Zeflah MacDonald 

THE HOME OF THE FREE: a comedy - By E. L. Reizenstein 
(Introduction by Barrett H. Clark) - Paper, .75 


FRANK SHAY - - NEW YORK 










THE STAGE GUILD PLAYS NO. 3 


THE WONDER HAT 

A HARLEQUINADE IN ONE ACT 
KENNETH SAWYER GOODMAN 
AND BEN HECHT/ 



FRANK SHAY . . . NEW YORK 









?S 



Copyright, 1916, by Kenneth Sawyer Goodman 
Copyright,! 1920, by Frank Shay 


THE WONDER HAT was originally produced at 
the Arts and Crafts Theatre, Detroit, Michigan, in 
1916, with the following cast: 


HARLEQUIN. . 
PIERROT .... 
PUNCHINELLO 
COLUMBINE. . 
MARGOT. 


.Sam Hume 

Charles E. Hilton 
. . .A. L. Weeks 
. . . Lento Fulwell 
. . . . Betty Brooks 


Set designed by Sam Hume 


NOTE: READ CAREFULLY 

The acting rights of this play are reserved by the author. 
Performance is strictly forbidden unless his express con¬ 
sent, or that of his representatives, has first been obtained, 
and attention is called to the penalties provided by law for 
any infringement of his rights, as follows: 

“Sec. 4966:—Any person publicly performing or representing 
any dramatic or musical composition for which copyright has been ob¬ 
tained, without the consent of the proprietor of said dramatic or musi¬ 
cal composition or his heirs and assigns, shall be liable for damages 
therefor, such damages in all cases to be assessed at such sum, not less 
than one hundred dollars for the first and fifty dollars for every subse¬ 
quent performance,* as to the court shall appear to be just. If the un¬ 
lawful performance and representation be wilful and for profit, such 
person or persons shall be guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon convic¬ 
tion be imprisoned foe a period not exceeding one year.”—U. S. Re¬ 
vised Statutes, Title 60, Chap. 3. 



Applications for permission to produce 
“THE WONDER HAT” must be address¬ 
ed to Frank Shay, 26-28 Horatio Street, 
New York. No performance may be given 
without his consent. 


COMPLETE LIST OF PLAYS UPON REQUEST 


J/SN -3 | 92 | ' f. 

©CI.O 5 641 5 ~ 

a,, ft 









The scene is a park by moonlight. The stage setting is 
shallow. At the back centre is a formal fountainj backed 
by a short wall about seven feet high with urns at its two 
ends. At each side of the fountain, low groups of shrub¬ 
bery. There is a clear space between the fountain and the 
back drop so that the characters may pass around the shrub¬ 
bery and the fountain. The back drop represents a night 
sky with an abnormally large arid yellow moon. A path 
crosses the stage parallel to the foot lights. 

As the curtain rises, Harlequin and Pierrot 1 saunter in 
from the left, arm in arm. They both have on long cloaks, 
and are swinging light caries with an air of elegant ennui. 
They pause in the centre of ihe stage. 

Harlequin. — ( indicating with a wave of his cane )—Dear 
fellow, this is a circular path. It ru,ns quite around the 
outer edge of the park. It delights me. I always spend my 
evenings here. One can walk for hours with the absolute 
certainty of never getting anywhere. 

Pierrot. — ( removing his eyeglass )—Dear chap, in these 
days of suburban progress, I had not supposed such a place 
possible. 

Harlequin. Also as you may have noticed, all the prom- 
enaders move continuously in the same direction. It is, 
therefore, only necessary to maintain an even pace in order 
to avoid making acquaintances. 

Pierrot. — ( with a slight yawn )—One might retrace one’s 
steps ? 

Harlequin. It has been tried by certain elderly roues and 
ladies from the opera, but always with disastrous results. 
Our best people no longer attempt it. 

Pierrot. Tell me, does Columbine ever come here? 

Harlequin. — ( becoming serious )—That is the one draw¬ 
back. She comes here very often. 

Pierrot. — ( snappishly )—Hmph 3 That really is annoying, 
deucedly, devilishly, foolishly annoying! 

Harlequin. You’re very emphatic. 

Pierrot. —( still more snappishly )—I have never liked that 
woman, in spite of what the poets say about us. 

Harlequin. — ( looking about cautiously )—By keeping a 
sharp lookout, I have thus far managed to avoid her my¬ 
self. 

Pierrot. — (pleased) —I see that we are both confirmed 
bachelors. We agree perfectly. 

3 


Harlequin. On the contrary, we don’t agree at all. Be¬ 
cause you dislike Columbine, you’re too confounded polite 
to others. You make cynical love to all sorts of women and 
nobody likes you for it. On the other hand, I adore hei and 
make love to nobody at all. For that reason I am simply 
overwhelmed with dinner invitations. 

Pierrot. Then why don’t!, you catch up with her some 
evening and tell her so. 

Harlequin. — ( preening himself )—Gross materialist! She 
would certainly fall in love with me. 

Pierrot. — ( with equal self-satisfaction )—At least I should 
be spared the possibility of her falling in love with me. 

Harlequin. How selfish of you! But, come, if you are 
quite rested, let us continue our walk. 

Pierrot. To be perfectly frank, dear chap, I find myself 
extremely sleepy. 

Harlequin. — ( haughtily )—There is a beautiful stone bench 
just beyond that clump of lilacs. 

Pierrot. — ( with a yawn) —Thanks. When we reach it, I 
shall sit down. 

Harlequin. By all means, dear fellow. I can then resume 
my stroll without the effort of conversation. (They saunter 
off, arm in arm, toward the right. Punchinello enters, 
dressed in a long ragged green coat and carrying a large 
sack and little bell. He wears i long whiskers and a pair of 
horn-rimmed spcclaclcs. He advances, tapping before him 
zvith a staff and ringing his little bell.) 

Punchinello. — (in a whining sing-song) —New loves for 
old! New 7 loves for old! I will buy broken ambitions, 
wasted lives, cork-legs, rejected poems, unfinished plays, bot¬ 
tles, bootjacks and worn out religions! (He drops his pack.) 
Oyez ! Oyez! Oyez! New loves for old! New loves for old! 
(He wags his head, listening.) Nobody here! I’ve walked 
three times ’round this accursed park. I’ve seen moon-faced 
boys asleep on stone benches, stone tritons blowing water 
into the air, and a rabble of sick-looking poets and silly look¬ 
ing girls all walking in the same direction. But not one 
bonafide customer! I’ll sit down. Yes, yes, I’ll sit down, 
curse them, and ease this infernal crick in my back. (He un¬ 
folds a little camp-stool which he carries, slung by a strap, 
and sits down. Columbine and Margot enter from the left 
and advance timidly to the centre of the stage without no¬ 
ticing Punchinello.) 

Columbine. — (very much excited) —I’m sure, Margot, that 
I saw him here only a moment ago. 

4 


Margot. Do you want my honest opinion, Mistress Co¬ 
lumbine ? 

Columbine.— ( stamping her foot )—How can an opinion be 
anything but honest? An opinion is naturally and automati¬ 
cally honest. 

Margot. Mine ain’t, ma’m. I always formulates my opin¬ 
ions to conform. 

Columbine. I don’t want them. I’m miserable. I’m 
wretched. 

Margot.— ( severely ) —Then I won’t give them to you. But 
if you’d act more like' a lady and stop trapesing around in 
the damp of the night trying to scrape an acquaintance with 
—with this Harlequin, who, God knows, may have six or 
seve;i wives already— 

Columbine. I’m not trapesing after him! 

Punchinello.— (in his sing-song voice )—New loves for 
old! New loves for old! 

Columbine.— ( frightened )—Oh, how you startled me! 

Punchinello.— (rubbing his hands )—Bargains, cheap, 
wonderful bargains. What will the lady buy? Something 
for her parlor? Something for her bed-room? Something 
for herself? Wall-paper, eggbeaters, canary birds, salt shak¬ 
ers, oriental rugs, corset covers, diamonds, waterbags, churns, 
potato pealers, hats, shoes, gas fixtures, new—old—bargains, 
lady, bargains? 

Columbin. No, no, no! I don’t want to buy anything. 

Punchinello.— (kneeling and spreading out his wares) — 
I have cures to sell, and charms. 

Columbine.— (fascinated in spite of herself) —What—what 
charms have you? 

Punchinello. Ho, ho! I have a charm to ward off evil 
spirits. 

Margot.— (in disgust) —Get along with you! 

Punchinello. Ha, ha! Against nightmares, then; against 
mice, toothaches, bunions, burglars, andj broken legs. 

Columbine. I don’t want them—any of them. 

Punchinello.— (wagging his head) —Ho, ho! Ha, ha! 
Then you’re in love. You want a love charm. 

Columbine.— (stamping her foot) —You’re impudent! I 
tell you I’m not in love. 

Margot.— (beginning to be interested) —What makes you 
pipe her off as being in love? 

5 


Punchinello. A lady who isn’t interested in mice, bun¬ 
ions or burglars,) must be in love. There’s no two ways 
about it. 

Margot. What about the broken legs and toothaches? 

Punchinello. — ( spreading his hands) —I just put that in 
for good measure. 

Columbine. Enough! I won’t listen to you! I—I’m not in 
love! 

Punchinello. I can remedy that with a charm. 

Columbine. — ( almost in tears )—I don’t want your 
charms. I don’t want to be in love. I hate him. I hate him. 
I hate him. So there! 

Punchinello. Yes, yes, pretty lady. I know that sort of 
talk very well. But I have also a charm to attract love. 

Columbine. — ( brightening immediately )—You have a 

charm to attract love? 

Punchinello. Iti will bring all men to you; little men, 
big men, pretty men, noble men, fat men— 

Columbine. — ( clasping her hands) —I want only one man 
—only Harlequin. 

Margot. — (interrupting) —If you want my opinion, ina’m— 

Columbine. But I don’t. I want the charm. 

Margot. I’d leave this fellow’s stuff alone, if I was you. 

Columbine. But you’re not me. I want the charm. 

Punchinello. — (searching through his wares) —It will 
bring Harlequin to you with the rest. 

Columbine. — (on tiptoe with eagerness) —Quick!, Give it 
to me. 

Punchinello.— (taking an old slipper from his pocket) — 
Ho, ho! Here it is. An old slipper! Each stitch of it more 
effective than Sapho’s complete works. Each thread more 
potent than the burning caresses of Dido. They say Cinder¬ 
ella wore a crystal slipper. It’s a lie. This—this, is what she 
wore. Ah, ha! look at it! 

Columbine. — (taken aback) —Do I have to wear thatf 

Margot. — (scornfully) —Land’s sake, it’s all run down at 
the heel. 

Punchinello. That’s because it has been worn so often. 
Semiramis of Babylon, Lais of Corinth, and Thais of Alex¬ 
andria, all wore this boot. 

Margot. — (with a sniff) —Them names don’t sound like re¬ 
spectable ladies, to my way of thinking. 

6 


Columbine. — ( dubiously )—It looks very old. Are you 
sure it has been fumigated. 

Punchinello. It’s no older than the light it has kindled 
in a thousand eyes. Cleopatra of Egypt abetted the lures of 
her person with this same ragged boot. Mary of Scotland, 
and a hundred other beauties of history have inspired the 
enraptured supplications of their adorers with no more tan¬ 
gible asset than this homely boot. Put it on, pretty lady, 
and all men will flock to your) feet, especially to the foot 
that wears the slipper. (He hands Columbine the slipper.) 

Columbine. Ooh, ooh! How wonderful! 

Margot. — (with a superior air )—Take my word, miss, it’ll 
be a nuisance to you. 

Columbine. I don’t care. I’m going* to teach Harlequin 
a lesson he won’t forget. (She takes off her own shoe, hop¬ 
ping on one foot and holding to Margot's arm. She then 
puts on the magic slipper.) 

Margot. Mind, I warned you now. 

Columbine. — (stamping her foot down )—There! It 

doesn’t look so badly once you get it on. 

Punchinello. — (groveling on his knees, his hands clasped) 
—Oh, most wonderful lady! Oh, most beautiful, most graci¬ 
ous, most divine lady! 

Margot. — (amazed at Punchinello's sudden fervor) —Lord 
love us! What’s got into the old bag of bones? 

Punchinello. — (to Columbine) —You have melted the 
lump of ice in my old breast. I am young again. I can hear 
birds singing, and sweet waters falling. 

Margot. — (to Punchinello) —Get up this minute before I 
burst a lung bawling for help. 

Columbine. — (dancing up and doivn ivitli delight) —Oh, oh, 
oh! Now I know it works! 

Margot. Just the same, he ought to know better, the old 
grampus. 

Punchinello.— I love you. 

Columbine. — (demurely) —That’s very nice in you, of 
course, but please get up—tell me how much I owe you. 

Punchinello. — (stilly on his knees) —With all my heart, 
with all my soul! 

Margot. Don’t you hear her. How much does she owe 
you for the magic slipper? 


7 


Punchinello. — ( still grovelling) —Nothing! Nothing! You 
owe me nothing at all! I will give you everything in my 
pack, all my bargains, all my spells, all my charms. I will 
make you a witch. 

Margot. She don’t want to be a witch! She wouldn’t 
touch them with the tip of a barge pole. 

Columbine. — (to Margot )—I really think I ought to pay 
him. 

Margot. If he won’t take anything, he won’t. That’s all 
there is to it. 

Punchinello. Speak to me! My heart is bursting. 

Margot. Let it burst, then. Come, ma’m. 

Columbine. Yes, yes. Let’s run. ( Columbine takes Mar¬ 
got by the hand and they run off to the right, laughing .) 

Punchinello. — ( attempting to rise )—Wait! Wait! I—I— 
Oh, confound this stitch in my side! (As the girls’ voices 
die away, he struggles to his feel 1 and rubs his head in a 
dazed sort of way.) Gone! What have I done? By the 
seven witches of Beelzebub, by the long fanged mother of 
the great green spider, I’ve !been tricked, cheated. (He 
shakes his staff) Curses on her golden head! May she have 
nightmares and toothache. May—Old fool! A blight on my 
whiskers! Woe! Woe! I’ve given my darling slipper away 
for nothing. (He sits down again on his camp stool and 
rocks to and fro, muttering. Harlequin, having completed 
his circle of the , park, enters from the left. He is smoking 
a cigarette and strolls along wearing a gloomy and troubled 
expression. Punchinello sees him and resumes his whin¬ 
ing chant.) 

Punchinello. New loves for old! New loves for old! 
Bargains in cast-off sweethearts, old coats, umbrellas, glove 
buttoners, and household pets. Bargains, sir, bargains! Cheap, 
wonderful bargains. (Harlequin passes and regards Punch¬ 
inello with absolute indifference.) I have pipes, swords, 
hosiery, snuff-boxes, underwear, wines, trinkets for beautiful 
ladies, furniture, spy-glasses, goldfish, motor cars and bottle- 
openers.. 

Harlequin. — (impatiently) —I want none of your bar¬ 
gains. 

Punchinello. I have magic bargains, sir. Spells and 
charms. 

Harlequin. Ah! more like it! You have charms, eh? 
What kind of charms? 


8 


Punchinello. I have charms against bunions, burglars, 
broken legs, nightmares, stomachaches and hang-nails. 

Harlequin. Ordinary trash! I don’t want them. 

Punchinello. — ( looking furtively about )—I have a love 
charm. 

Harlequin. — (in alarm) —God forbid! 

Punchinello. — (rubbing his hands )—Ho ho! He, he! 

Harlequin. Have you by any chance a charm against 
love ? Aye, more, have you some efficacious armour against 
womankind in general? 

Punchinello. Ho, ho !| A man after my own heart, a 
cautious man. A sensible man. 

Harlequin.— (loftily) —Know you, antiquated pander, that, 
everywhere I go, women follow me. They stalk me. They 
covet me. They make my days miserable. They haunt my 
sleep. They simper about me, wink at me; rub against me 
like silken cats, (with vexation) Ah, I would almost end my 
life from very irritation. And the damnable part of it is that 
I know myself to be susceptible. 

Punchinello. — (slyly) —There is no charm in the world 
against falling in love, but I can sell you a powder, which 
tossed into the air, will bring destruction to women alone. 

Harlequin. — (rubbing his chin doubtfully) —No—That’s 
too brutal. I couldn’t kill them all even if I wanted to. And 
what use then to destroy a hundred, a thousand, even a mil¬ 
lion women, and have one sneak up behind you and get you 
after all. It would be an effort wasted. Love is inevitable. 

Punchinello. Wait! Ho, ho! I have it, the very thing! 
If one cannot remove the inevitable, at any rate one may 
hide from it. What doesn’t see you, can’t get you. Ha, ha! 
I can sell you a hat. 

Harlequin. I am not in the market for a hat. 

Punchinello. — (triumphantly)\ —Bu)t a magic hat! Ho, 
such a hat! A wonder hat! It will make you invisible. 

Harlequin. — (incredulously) —Invisible? 

Punchinello. — (fishing in his bag) —When you put it on, 
you will exist only in your own mind. You will escape the 
pernicious sentimentality, the never-ending blandishments, 
the strategic coquetry— 


9 


Harlequin. — ( eagerly )—Quick, you millinery sorcerer! 
You have convinced me. Invisibility is the one thing I 
crave to make me sublimely happy. Splendid! They shall 
never simper at me again, never rub against me again, never 
undulate before my tormented eyes. I will buy it. 

Punchinello. — ( holding up the hat) —Is it not a crea¬ 
tion ? 

Harlequin. — {looking at the hat with distaste) —God, what 
a thing to wear! I would not wear it, you may be sure, were 
it not invisible. Any man would prefer not to be seen in 
such a hat. 

Punchinello. It may be unlovely in outline, coarse in 
texture, unrefined in color, but there is only one other such 
hat in the world. It belongs to the grand Llamah of Thibet. 
Ha, ha! This one will cost you gold. 

Harlequin. — ( cautiously) —But first I must see if it is 
really a Wonder Hat. 

Punchinello. I will put it on. {He does so.) 

Harlequin. — {delighted) —A miracle! Where are you? 

Punchinello. — {removing the hat with a flourish) —Now, 
behold me! Here I am. 

Harlequin. Bravo! What wonders I will, do with that 
hat! But stay! What if the hat is only charmed for you? 
What if the charm does not apply to me? 

Punchinello. You shall try it yourself. Put it on. {Har¬ 
lequin takes the hat and puts it on.) 

Harlequin. Can you see me? 

Punchinello. By St. Peter of Padua, not a speck of you! 
{He gropes zvith his hands, then strikes out with his staff and 
strikes Harlequin in the shins.) 

Harlequin. — {hopping up and dozen) —Ooh ! Ouch! 

Punchinello. Ho, ho! Pardon me. You see you are 
quite invisible. 

Harlequin. But not invulnerable! {He rubs his shins.) 

Punchinello. How much will you give me for this Won¬ 
der Hat? 

Harlequin. Are you sure you can’t see me? 

Punchinello. — {rubbing his hands) —You are one with 
the thin air and the fairies that inhabit it. 

Harlequin. There’s no uncanny trick by which Colum¬ 
bine can discover me? 

Punchinello. None. None. I swear it. It’s only by 
your voice that I know where you are. 

10 ’ 


Punchinello. — (He swings out with his staff. Harlequin 
leaps nimbly aside.) For years I have treasured this won¬ 
der hat. A blind woman with seven teeth and one eye, made 
it in a haunted hut. It was cooked over a fire of serpent 
skins. (As Punchinello speaks, Harlequin tiptoes away to 
the right around the central group of shrubbery.) Ho, ho! 
There’s no charm like it to be had from one peak of the 
world to the other. (He swing.s out again with his staff. 
Harlequin, zi'ho has been peeping at him over the shrubbery, 
disappears behind the fountain.) Five bags of gold. sir. Cheap 
—a, bargain! Hey! (He sivings his staff.) Hey! Hey! 
Where are you? Take off my hat. Give me back my hat! 
(He stands still and listens.) Thief! Thief! He’s gone— 
vanished. Oh, what a fool! First my magic slipper, worth 
fifty pots of gold. What a doddering idiot! I’ve been 
cheated again, robbed, plundered! Oh, what a stitch in my 
side! Oh, oh! (He gathers up his pack hurriedly then stops 

and taps the side of his nose with his finger.) Ho, ho! A 
thought! What a pair of lovers they will make. She with 
her slipper. He with his hat. She said Harlequin. He said 
Columbine. Yes, yes! I shall have my reward. They are 
the fools, not I. As if love were not enough magic of it¬ 
self. Ho, ho, ho ! I must follow her. Ho, ho! She went this 
way. (He moves off the right leaving his camp-stool. Har¬ 
lequin appears again around the left end of the shrubbery and 
advances cautiously to the center of the stage.) 

Harlequin. — (looking after Punchinello) —I detest the 
idea of cheating anybody. But of course, one can’t be run¬ 
ning after tradespeople, pressing money on them. It sim¬ 
ply isn’t done, (He looks in the other direction.) Colum¬ 
bine should have made the round of the park by this time. 
What’s keeping her? Confound it, here I am waiting for 
her as safe and invisible as the angels themselves. (He sits 
down on the campstool and holds his hand before his face.) 
No, I can’t see it. I wonder if I have a hand, or a leg, or 
a stomach, or a heart? If I don’t take off my hat and look 
at myself, I shall soon become a total stranger to myself. 
What a wonder hat! (There is a sound of women’s voices 
in the distance. He pricks up his ears.) Ah, her voice! 
Like the tinkling of silver bells in a shrine of ivory. Like 
the patter of crystal rain in a pool of scarlet lilies. (He slaps 
his leg.) Ah, ha! I’m in love! In love, by gad! to the tips 

11 


of where my fingers ought to be. {He becomes serious.) 
If I take off my hat, I’d be lost. She would pounce on me, 
and, being in love, I should pounce back. My hat must stay 
on. I will tie it on. I will naill it on. Curse me if I take 
off my hat. {He pulls the hat dozvn to the tops of his ears, 
then clasps his hands.) Ah, to sit by her, safe and unseen! 
To bask in the splendour of her presence! To love and be 
loved only as a dream! To be free from all material en¬ 
tanglements and responsibilities! To touch her with invisible 
fingers and permit the stolen thrills to course up and down 
my invisible spine! {He sings, “A Wandering Minstrel” air.) 

A love-sick atom I, 

A thing unseen and seeing, 

For in my hat am I 
A hypothetical being. 

{He suddenly has a new thought.) But what if, being un¬ 
able to see me, she should fall in love with somebody else? 
That vapid ass, Pierrot, for instance? Oh, God, what if he 
should strike fire in her heart? But I will not take off my 
hat! Kind Heaven,' give me strength to keep my hat on. 
{He pulls the hat still further down over his ears, just as 
Columbine and Margot enter from the left.) 

Columbine. — {to Margot) —This i$ too much! Did you 
ever see such a rabble? 

Margot. I shouldn’t be so particular, miss, seeing as 
how you brought it on yourself. 

Columbine. They’ve risen from every bench to follow 
me. They’ve come from every corner of the park; bur¬ 
glars, doctors, poets, whiskered Doi^ Juans, rumbling Ro¬ 
meos. Great Heavens, the idiots! If they hadn’t fallen to 
fighting among themselves, we’d been trampled to death. I— 
I hope they exterminate each other. {Harlequin, seeing Co¬ 
lumbine in such an angry mood, rises cautiously, and in so 
doing, upsets the campstool. He stands trembling and hold¬ 
ing on to his hat.) 

Margot. — {starting)', —Bless me, wlhat’s that? {Colum¬ 
bine and Margot both look around. Their eyes pass over 
Harlequin without seeing him.) 

Columbine. Nothing! There’s nobody here. {Evidently 
much relieved, Harlequin tiptoes to the right end of the 
fountain.) 

Margot. If you want my honest opinion, miss— 

Columbine. — {stamping her foot) —How many times must 
I tell you— 


12 


Margot.. Be careful with that magic boot, miss. 

Columbine. Drat the magic boot! What’s the good of 
it? It’s brought me nothing but trouble. 

Margot. Well, what did you expect? 

Columbine. — (almost weeping )—It hasn’t brought him. It 
hasn’t brought Harlequin. 

Margot. If you want my opinion, miss, honest or other¬ 
wise— I 

Columrine. — ( stamping her foot again )— I don’t! 

Margot. Then I won’t give it to you. 

Columbine. Oh, Margot, be gentle with me. I love him, 
and—and I’m dreadfully uncomfortable about it. 

Margot. Well, there’s worse discomfort. There’s clergy¬ 
man’s sore throat, for instance, and house-maid’s knee. 

Columbine. — (clinching her hands )—Oh, if I could only 
see him now, the cold hearted fish! I’d fix him. I’d melt 
his icy blood for him! (Harlequin holds tight to his hat.) 

Margot. — (soothingly) —Of course, of course, you would. 

Columbine. But he can’t escape. I will marry him. I’ll 
marry him. I’ll have him for my own, locked under key in 
a house; a beautiful little house, all new and spick and span, 
with white trimmings and green shutters. 

Margot. If I may put in a word for myself, miss, I hope 
you won’t have a basement kitchen. 

Columbine. — (spitefully) —But I’ll make him suffer first. 
I’ll—I’ll— (Harlequin jams his hat dozvn tighter and dis¬ 
appears behind the fountain.) 

Margot. If you must get het up and stamp, miss, I’d ad¬ 
vise you to confine your stamping to the footj which ain’t 
got the magic boot on. 

Columbine. Margot, were you ever in love? 

Margot. There are opinions concerning that question, 
miss, honest and otherwise. 

Columbine. Hush! Someone’s coming. (Pierrot enters 
disheveled and breathless. He advances and flings himself 
on one knee before Columbine.) 

Pierrot. At last! Exquisite Columbine, ravishing vision, 
I have overcome my rivals. I have vanquished a legion of 
your adorers. (Harlequin peeps around the left side of the 
fountain.) 

Margot. — (to Pierrot) —Lord love us! You look as though 
you’d been run through a threshing machine. 

13 


Pierrot. I have. I kicked Scaramouche in the stomach 
and pushed the Doctor of Bologna into a lily pond. Divine 
Circe, I have come to claim my reward. ( He clutches the 
edge of Columbine’s dress.) 

Columbine. Get up this instant! You’re tearing the trim¬ 
ming off my petticoat. 

Pierrot. Columbine, Columbine. I love you! 

Margot. — (taking Pierrot’s arm and pulling him to his 
feet) —Get up, you great baby! (Harlequin tiptoes across 
the stage and stands behind Margot and Pierrot.) 

Pierrot. — (clasping his hands) —I love you, Columbine! 
Listen to me! 

Columbine. — (haughtily) —This is a very sudden change 
on your part, Mr. Pierrot. Yesterday you snubbed me quite 
openly. 

Pierrot. Forgive me. I was blind. I was a dolt. I have 
only just now come to my senses. 

Margot. — (turning her shoulder to him and folding her 
arms) —You’ll come to something worse presently. 

Pierrot. — (to Columbine) —I love you—I love you— (Har¬ 
lequin reaches out and deftly extracts a long hat pin from 
the back of Margot’s cap. .Margot puts her hands to her 
head and turns fiercely on Pierrot.) 

Margot. How dast you grab my hat? 

Pierrot. — (in astonishment) —I never touched your hat. 

Margot. You did. 

Pierrot. — (turning on her) —I—I did nothing of the sort. 

Margot. There’s laws to cover this kind of thing—an¬ 
noying women in a public park. 

Pierrot. You’re an impudent hussy. 

Margot. You’re nothing but a common, ordinary home 
wrecker. (Harlequin approaches Columbine and gently 
touches her hair. Pierrot and Margot glare at each other.) 

Columbine. — (clasping her ' hands) —Margot, Margot, it’s 
wonderful! It’s divine! I feel as if the air were suddenly 
full of kisses. (Harlequin strikes an attitude of complete 
satisfaction.) 

Margot. It’s full of dampness and nasty language, that’s 
what it is. (She gives Pierrot a venomous look.) 

Pierrot. — (again falling on his knees and addressing Co¬ 
lumbine) —It’s full of the unspeakable ecstacy of my admir¬ 
ation. 


14 


Columbine.— ( paying no attention to Pierrot) —It’s full of 
marvelously shy caresses! They are like the wings of 
happy butterflies, brushing white lilac blooms! 

Pierrot. Ah, what did I tell you? The love I offer you 
is a gift, a treasure. 

Columbine.— (her hands still clasped) —I can almost feel 
invisible lips sighing my name—his lips—Harlequin’s lips. 

Pierrot.— (straightening up on his knees) —What’s that 
you say about Harlequin? 

Margot. It’s none of your business. 

Pierrot.— (spitefully) —Good God! To think of intruding 
that fellow’s name at a time like this. Why, the chap’s a 
positive bounder. He has no taste, no education, no refine¬ 
ment. And his face—ugh! He’d frighten himself to death 
if he looked in a mirror before his barber got to him in the 
morning. (Harlequin steps behind Pierrot and prods him 
in the back with the hat pin.) Ooh, Ouch! (He springs to 
his feet and turns on Margot.) 

Pierrot. — (to Margot, shaking his finger in her\ face) — 
You—You did that. You—you know you did. 

Margot.— (taken aback) —Did what? 

Pierrot.— (in a rage) —You—you stabbed me in the back 
and don’t you deny it. 

Margot. The man’s stark, staring mad! 

Columbine.— (to Pierrot in any icy voice) —Will you be 
good enough to explain what’s the matter with you? 

Pierrot.— (his eye still on Margot) —I’ve been attacked, 
lacerated. 

Margot. If you don’t behave yourself, I’ll give you some¬ 
thing to howl about. 

Pierrot.— (again falling at Columbine's feet) —But it’s no¬ 
thing—nothing to the torments I suffer from your heartless¬ 
ness. Nothing to the— (Harlequin stabs him again with the 
hat pin.) 

Pierrot. Ouch! Wow! Hell’s fire! Animals! (He claps 
his hand to the spot) I’m being bitten to death! 

Margot. And a good riddance, too! 

Columbine. Come, Margot! I won’t stay here! I won’t 
be insulted! 

Pierrot.— (again grasping the hem of her dress) —No, no! 
I’ll suffer everything. I’ll suffer in silence. Only don’t leave 
me. Speak to me. I love you. I— 

Columbine. I’ll scream for help. 

15 


Margot. If you really want help, miss, it’s( my advice, 

take off the slipper. ( Harlequin, who has been about to at¬ 
tack Pierrot, hesitates and looks puzzled.) 

Columbine. Yes, yes. Why didn’t I think of it. (She 
zvhips off the magic slipper and holds it in her hand. The 
moment the slipper leaves her foot Pierrot sits back on his 
haunches and lets go the edge of Columbine's dress.) 

Pierrot. — (in a feeble voice) —I love you. I— (He rubs his 
head) By jove, this is most extraordinary! 

Margot. — (clapping her hands) —Toss it to me, miss. (Co¬ 
lumbine tosses the slipper to Margot.) 

Margot. — (examining the slipper) —What a rummy slip¬ 
per! (She takes off her shoe) I wonder what’s inside of it? 
Love? (She puts the magic slipper on her oivn foot.) Ooh! 
How it tickles! (Pierrof rises from his knees and looks 
helplessly from Columbine to Margot.) 

Columbine. — (to Pierrot) —Well, Mr. Pierrot? 

Pierrot. — (completely puzzled) —I am quite at a loss to 
explain my feelings. (He hesitates, then turns and kneels 
before Margot. Harlequin appears even more puzzled. He 
is also drawn i'tpward Margot by the spell of the slipper, but 
his natural infatuation for Columbine seems to neutralize the 
effect of the charm. He is visibly perplexed.) 

Pierrot. Incomparable Margot! Queen among house¬ 
maids ! Divine custodian of my deepest affection. 

Margot. — (to Columbine) —You see, miss, the gentleman 
is now in love with me. 

Columbine. Disgusting! 

Pierrot. I am drawn by some irresistible power of fasci¬ 
nation. I — I belong to you utterly. 

Margot. You belong in jail. You’re nothing but a—a 
shameless affinity. 

Pierrot. — (clinging to the hem of Margot's skirt) —I love 
you ! I swear it!. 

Margot. — (weakening) —Oh, la, la! Listen to the man talk! 

Columbine. — (to Margot) —You’re a brazen hussy to take 
advantage of your social superior. 

Margot. — (haughtily) — My superior? Him? 

Columbine. — (stamping her foot) —You’re forgetting your 
place! 

Pierrot. I love you—I love you— 

Margot. — (slyly) —Suppose, miss, I was to say I believed 
every word he says to me. 


16 


Columbine. I’d say you were an artful designing minx. 
I’d discharge you without a shred of character. 

Margot. Well, you won’t have to—because, I ain’t going 
to say it. 

Pierrot.— ( making another grab at her skirts )—You must 
listen to me! You must! ( Harlequin stabs him once more 
with the hat pin.) Ouch! Wow! This is terrible. I love you! 

Margot. — (to Pierrot) —Hey! Get 'up! A woman what 
works for a living can’t afford to have her good nerves shat¬ 
tered for her! ( She tries to shake off Pierrot.) 

Columbine. Give me back the slipper, this instant. 

Margot. You’re welcome to it, I’m sure. ( She snatches 
off the slipper and tosses it aivay from her. Columbine picks 
it up, but does not put it on.) Now will you leave go of 
me? (He releases her in a dazed way.) 

Pierrot. — (weakly) —I—I love you. I. (He rises and again 
looks from one to the other. Columbine holds the slipper 
in her hand.) 

Columbine. — (to Pierrot) —Well, sir? 

Margot. Well? 

Pierrot.— (adjusting his collar and speaking quite calm¬ 
ly) I consider myself fortunate in having escaped you both. 
I see now that there is something deadly about that slipper. 
To think that a man of my intellectual and artistic attain¬ 
ments should have been affected by such a trick. In love with 
a boot! How very trivial! 

Margot. Well, what are you going to do now? 

Pierrot. I don’t know exactly. Perhaps I shall drown 
myself in the fountain. (He turns his back on Margot and 
Columbine and assumed a pose of thoughtful indifference. 
Harlequin again approaches Columbine.) 

Columbine. Oh, Margot! What shall I do? I’m faint. 
I’m intoxicated. He hasn’t come and yet I feel as if he were 
near me, almost touching me. I feel all the exquisite cer¬ 
tainty of love. Yes, yes, I love him! I love Harlequin, and 
I know that he loves me in return. I know it, and yet, and 
yet— 

Margot. Yes, miss, and yet? 

Columbine. — (wringing her hands) —And yet I don’t know 
what under heavens to do about it. (Harlequin clasps his 
hands in an ecstacy of complete satisfaction.) 

Margot. — (speaking apart to Columbine) —It’s my advice, 
miss, put on the slipper again. What if it don’t attract this 

17 


here Harlequin? There’s just as big perch in the puddle as 
ever came out of it. That’s my motto. Besides, there t is 
such a thing as making the right man jealous. 

Columbine.— ( brightening immediately) —I believe you’re 
right. I’ll put on the slipper. I’ll have a desperate flirtation 
with Pierrot. I’ll take him everywhere with me. I’ll dangle 
him before Harlequin’s nose. ( She puts on the slipper and 
speaks archly) —Mr. Pierrot. 

Pierrot.— ( turning ) —Eh? I beg pardon. 

Columbine. I—I don’t want you to be angry with me. 
(Pierrot looks somewhat puzzled for a moment, then suc¬ 
cumbs again to the spell of the slipper and rushes toivard 
her.) 

Pierrot. I—I don’t—I— {He throws himself on his knees) 
Columbine ! My angel! 

Columbine.— ( shaking her finger at him) —You were veiy 
rude to me a few moments ago. ( Harlequin watches with 
puzzled interest.) You accused me of having ensnared your 
affections by means of a charm. 

Pierrot. I don’t know anything about a charm. I am 
charmed only by your eyes, your lips, the flow of your voice. 

Columbine. Do you know, I think it’s very sweet o‘ you 
to say that. 

Pierrot. I can say more, a thousand times more. 

Harlequin.— {overcome by jealousy) —I shall put a stop 
to this. {He seems to come to a tremendous resolve.) I—I 
shall take off my hat. 

Margot. Lord have mercy! What is that? 

Pierrot. My adored Columbine! You love me after ail? 

Columbine.— {archly) —I haven’t said so. 

Harlequin.— {tugging frantically at his hat) — My hat! A 
thousand devils ! I can’t get it off! 

Pierrot.— {rising) —I’m your worshipper, your slave. 

Columbine. You may see me to my door. {She takes 
Pierrot's arm.) 

PIarlequin.— {frantically) —Wait! Stop! Confound it, if 
I could only get my hat off! 

Margot.— {alarmed) —I want to get away from here. 

Columbine.— {listening) —It’s Harlequin’s voice! 

Pierrot. I don’t see anybody. {They all look about them. 
Punchinello enters from the left ivith his pack on his back.) 

Punchinello. Ho, ho, ha, ha! There you are, eh? There 

18 


you are. I’ve been looking; for you. (Columbine hastily 
snatches off her slipper and hides it behind her back. They 
all face Punchinello. Harlequin tiptoes to one side and" 
watches curiously.) 

Columbine. — {to Punchinello) —What do you want? 

Punchinello. What do I want, eh? You know very well 

what I want. I want my magic slipper, my magic slipper 
that you stole from me. 

Columbine. I didn’t steal it. You gave it to me! 

Punchinello. Ho, ho! That’s a pretty story! Hee, hee! 
I gave it to you, eh? Well, I changed my mind. 

Columbine. I—I’m perfectly willing to pay you for it. 

Margot. Don’t you give him a cent, the miserable oyster. 

Columbine. How much do you want for it? 

Punchinello. — ( rubbing Jiis hands) —I should think about 
ten bags of gold. 

Columbine. Ridiculous! There isn’t so much money in 
the whole world. 

Punchinello. — {pointing to Pierrot) —Perhaps this nice 
gentleman would like to buy it for you? 

Pierrot. I— {He looks at Columbine.) I have only the 
most casual acquaintance with this lady. 

Harlequin. — {in a rage to Pierrot) —You infernal little 
cad! You—you {He makes a move toward Pierrot. All 
back away from his voice except Punchinello.) 

Punchinello. Ho, ho! So you’re there, too. Two birds 
with one stone. {He rubs his hands )—My magic slipper 
and my beloved wonder hat. Well, well, well! {Harlequin, 
seeing that lie has betrayed his presence, stands as if unde¬ 
cided zvliat to do next. Punchinello strikes about him with 
his staff.) Hey! Where are you? Take off my hat. 

Margot. For the love of heaven, what is he raving about 
now ? 

Punchinello. My hat, my Wonder Hat! I sold it to Har¬ 
lequin for five bags of gold—six bags of gold— 

Columbine. You sold it to Harlequin? 

Punchinello. Aye, the ruffian, the highwayman. I sold 
it to him for only seven bags of gold. He clapped it on his 
head and now he’s invisible. 

Columbine. — {in delighted wonder) —You really mean that 
Harlequin is here, near us? Oh, I knew it! I felt it! 

Punchinello. Of course, he’s here. Hey, you, take off 

19 


my hat! ( He swings his staff and Harlequin again dances 
out of his way.)Take off my hat or give me my eight bags 
of gold. Hey, thief! (He swings his staff again.) 

Harlequin. I’m not a thief. I’d have paid you for your 
hat if you hadn’t run away in such a huff. Now, after the 
way you’ve acted, I shall take my own time about it. 

Columbine.— ( stamping her foot) —Harlequin! 

Harlequin. — (in a dubious voice) —Ye—yes? 

Columbine. Take off that silly hat this minute. 

Harlequin. I—well—to tell you the truth, I— 

Columbine. Don’t you ( hear what I’m saying? Give it 
back this second. 

Harlequin. I would first like some sort of assurance, 
some guarantee of good faith—some— 

Columbine. I’m not making any promises this evening. 

Harlequin. — (plaintively) —My dear Columbine, I have 
learned a good deal about my own feelings in the last half 
hour. I am perfectly willing to return this man’s property 
and to submit to the ordinary and normal risks of your so¬ 
ciety. But I positively insist that, before I reveal myself, you 
must also return to him all and sundry charms, spells, et 
cetera, which might, if used either by accident or with malice 
aforethought, effect my own future course of action. 

Columbine. — (remaining absolutely firm) —I’ve told you 
once that I won’t make any promises. 

Harlequin. Then, I remain invisible. 

Punchinello. I tell you once more, give me back my hat. 

Harlequin. — (folding his arms) —No. 

Punchinello. Ah, ha! Then I shall have my revenge! 
Know, miserable butterfly, that you are trifling with magic 
beyond your own powers of control. There is a terrible 
clause in the incorporation of this hat. Ho, ho! Listen! He 
who steals this wonder hat and places it upon his own head, 
cannot remove it again except in the presence and with the 
consent of its rightful owner. When I have left you, you 
will become for all time one with the interstellar atoms. You 
will never resume your mortal shape. You will haunt the 
cafes. You will moon about the boxes at the opera. You 
will sigh and pine in the wake of beautiful women ,as fu¬ 
tile and impalpable as a gust of summer wind. (He picks 
up his pack.) Ho, ho! Now will you give me back my hat? 

Harlequin, — (with an evident effort at firmness) —No! 
Not unless Columbine first returns the slipper. 

20 


Punchinello.— ( turning to Columbine.) —Madam, I make 
my last appeal to you. 

Columbine.— ( folding her arms) —Not unless Harlequin 
first returns the hat! ( Punchinello looks from one to the 
other.) 

Punchinello. Come, ladies and gentlemen, I have urg¬ 
ent business elsewhere. 

Pierrot. Might I suggest that the simplest way out of the 
dilemna would be for each of the principal parties to re¬ 
turn the pilfered articles at the same exact moment? 

Punchinello. Quite so! An excellent idea! 

Pierrot. I shall count and at the word three—Is that sat¬ 
isfactory to everybody? 

Harlequin. — ( doubtfully) —Ye—yes. 

Columbine.— ( also doubtfully) —Ye—yes. 

Pierrot. Very^ well, then. One! ( Harlequin begins to 

loosen the hat from his head.) Two! 

Margot. — ( stepping forward) —Stop, everybody! You, 
Mistress Columbine, and you, invisible Mr. Harlequin. Be¬ 
cause no matter what you do, somebody’s bound to regret 
it. Don’t interrupt me, ma’m, and you, wherever you are, 
keep your lid on and your mouth shut. I want to put it up to 
the kind ladies and gentlemen that have been studying this 
performance, and I asks them openly, what should be done 
at this point? Should Columbine give back the slipper or 
should she hang on to what she’s got? Should Harlequin 
take off his hat? Personally, my honest opinion is that the 
question can’t be answered to suit everybody, so it’s my ad¬ 
vice that we ring down right here, and allow everybody to 
go home and fix up an ending to conform to the state of his 
own digestion. 

Pierrot. But, you know, we’re being paid to finish this 
thing. 

Harlequin. Paid? We’re not working for money. We’re 
working for love. 

Columbine. Love! 

Margot. Aw, hell! 

Quick Curtain. 


21 


/ 


THE 

STAGE GUILD PLAYS 


By Kenneth Sawyer Goodman. 

THE GREEN SCARF; a comedy in one act. 

THE GAME OF CHESS; a play in one act. 

EPHRAIM AND THE WINGED BEAR; a Christmas 
Eve Nightmare. 

DUST OF THE ROAD; a play in one act. 

DANCING DOLLS; a comedy in one act. 

BACK OF THE YARDS; a play in one act. 

BARBARA; a play in one act. 

A MAN CAN ONLY DO HIS BEST;, a comedy in one 
act. 


By Kenneth Sawyer Goodman and Ben Hecht 

THE HERO OF SANTA MARIA; a comedy in one act. 
THE WONDER HAT; a fantasy in one act. 


By Kenneth Sawyer Goodman and Thomas Wood Stevens 

HOLBEIN IN BLACKFRIARS; a comedy in one act. 
THE DAIMIO’S HEAD; a masque. 

THE MASQUE OF MONTEZUMA; in five scenes. 
CAESAR’S GODS; a byzantine masque. 

RAINALD AND THE RED WOLF; a masque. 

A PAGEANT FOR INDEPENDENCE DAY; in four 
scenes. 


By Thomas Wood Stevens 
THREE WISHES; a comedy in one act. 

By Thomas Wood Stevens and Wallace Rice 
THE CHAPLET OF PAN; a masque. 

Each 50 cents, postpaid. 

FRANK SHAY 

26-28 Horatio Street. New York City 


22 












Stewart Kidd 
Modern Plays 


Edited by FRANK SHAY 

To meet the immensely increased de- 
mands of the play-reading public and those 
interested in the modern drama, Stewart 
<Sc Kidd Company are issuing, under the 
general editorship of Frank Shay, a series 
of plays from the pens of the world’s best 
contemporary writers. No effort is being 
spared to secure the best work available, 
and the plays are issued in a form that is 
at once attractive to readers and suited to 
the needs of the performer and producer. 

The titles are: 

SHAM - - By Frank G. Tompkins 

THE SHEPHERD IN THE DISTANCE 

- - - - By Holland Hudson 

MANSIONS - - By Hildegarde Flanner 

HEARTS TO MEND - By H. A. Overstreet 

Others to follow shortly 

Bound in Art Paper. 50c to 75c each. 

FRANK SHAY 
26-28 Horatio St., New York 


23 










M0RNING5IDE 


PLAYERS 

















THE MORNINGSIDE PLAYS 


HATTIE; a drama. By Elva De Pue. 

ONE A DAY; a comedy. By Caroline Briggs. 

MARKHEIM; a dramatization. By Zellah MacDonald. 

THE HOME OF THE FREE; a comedy. By E. L. 
Reizenstein. 

(Introduction by Barrett H. Clark.).Paper, 75c 


24 


















The Provincetown 



Edited and Selected by 
George Cram Cook and Frank Shay. 

A record of the work of the most serious 
and important of all new theatre move¬ 
ments in America. The plays, which are 
distinctively American, are a notable con¬ 
tribution to our stage, and go far towards 
indicating America’s place in the world of 
the theatre. 

The contents are: 

ARIA DE CAPO - By Edna St. Vincent Millay 
STRING OF THE SAMISEN - By Rita Wellman 
NIGHT - - By James Oppenheim 

THE ANGEL INTRUDES - By Floyd Dell 

SUPPRESSED' DESIRES 

By George Cram Cook and Susan Glaspell 

BOUND EAST FOR CARDIFF 


By Eugene G. O’Neill 
By Pendleton King 


COCAINE 


ENEMIES - ByNeith Boyce and Hutchins Hapgood 
NOT SMART - By Wilbur Daniel Steele 

THE WIDOW’S VEIL - By Alice Rostetter 

Octavo, silk cloth, £ilt top, net $3.00. 
FRANK SHAY 
26-28 Horatio St., New York 








Fifty 

Contemporary 
One-Act Plays 

Edited and Selected by 
Frank Shay and Pierre Loving 

This volume contains fifty representa¬ 
tive one act plays of the modern theatre, 
chosen from the dramatic works of con¬ 
temporary writers all over the world. Some 
of the countries represented are: Austria, 
Belgium, Bolivia, France, Germany, Hol¬ 
land, Hungary, Great Britain, India, Ire¬ 
land, Italy, Russia, Spain, Sweden, United 
States and the Yiddish Theatre. 

The editors have scrupulously sifted 
countless plays, and have selected the best 
available in English. 

Both Frank Shay and Pierre Loving have 
been connected for many years with little 
theatres in the United States. This has af¬ 
forded them an exceptional opportunity 
for testing the validity of many one act 
plays, both as to their literary value and 
dramatic possibilities in actual production. 

An exhaustive bibliography will be found 
at the end of the volume. 

Special Circular Upon Request. 

Large 8to, cloth Not $5.00 

FRANK SHAY 
26-28 Horatio St.. New York 


































